


Prison

by editorbit



Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [15]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Character Study, Gen, One Shot, Post-Laughing Toxin Jeremiah Valeska
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editorbit/pseuds/editorbit
Summary: "You’re all prisoners. What you call sanity, it’s just a prison in your minds..."~Jerome waits for him in his cell. He always does.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska
Series: Jerome & Jeremiah Character Studies(?) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514969
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Prison

Jerome waits for him in his cell. He always does. How he does it, Jeremiah doesn’t know, though he never questions it. He doesn’t put it beyond Jerome having Arkham wrapped around his little finger. Watching the door to his cell close and turning around, he’ll spot him on his bed. Sometimes he’ll sit on it with his feet dangling off the edge and his back resting against the wall. Upon seeing his brother get back, he’ll smile and wave. "Back already. Didn’t skip breakfast, did ya?" he’ll say, voice laced with artificial concern. 

Other times he’ll lie on his bed, hands folded under his head and legs crossed. His eyes are shut and his chest rises every so often with every calm breath in his sleep. Jeremiah doesn’t wake him and resorts to sitting on the floor, back to the wall and arms wrapped around his knees. He falls asleep like that to the sound of Jerome’s soft breaths. Jerome will be gone by the time he wakes up. How he got out of his cell, he doesn’t know. He figures a guard checking on him let him out at some point. Jeremiah will finally lie down on his bed. The mattress is cold, but feels like the softest of clouds beneath his aching back and stiff limbs compared to the hard floor and he’s out like a light. 

Jeremiah spends a lot of time in his cell, often alone. It’s in these moments he realises just how quiet Arkham Asylum can get. It’s like he’s the only one there. Just him, his own thoughts and the odd sensation residing within him. It’s the gas, he assumes. Ever since the gas he’s been feeling odd. First came the feeling of the gas running through every vein in his body, entering his mind and swirling around with his thoughts. The feeling eventually settled. The gas settled within him. Then came the cosmetic effects. Looking down at his hands and pulling his sleeves up to expose his forearms, he’s met with the sight of pale skin. Sickly pale skin. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror once alone in his maze, he’s met with ever changing hair, the red from it fading and slowly becoming an odd mix of colours, a shade different every time he looks at himself. He’s met with darkened lips. Blood red. He’d covered it all. He didn’t like it. 

Later he’d felt different. A door inside of him had opened. Thoughts he’d never catch himself think slipped their way into his mind more and more. He pushed them away, yet some escaped out of his grasp. They were oddly Jerome like. He pushed them away, but as time passed ever so slowly, the door inside of him lost its hinges and he could do nothing but let the thoughts flow through, taking control and creating chaos. Jeremiah was no longer the man he used to be, but he was in there somewhere. Sometimes, when alone in his cell, accompanied only by his brother, he’d spot him. The chaos would decrease and old, familiar thoughts would show through. Old, familiar, sane thoughts. Old, familiar, sane Jeremiah. Did the silence bring them out, or Jerome?

Jerome often breaks the silence. Jerome can talk for hours if one just lets him. He talks about anything and everything. Anything from the jello from the cafeteria, the springy beds, other inmates or the guards to their childhood. He talks about their mother, their uncle and the beatings. He talks about Jeremiah, not very kindly most of the time. Jeremiah witnesses Jerome slowly but surely get louder and louder as his monologue goes on and on. He sees the emotions in his eyes. The rage and the pain. The old, familiar, sane Jeremiah makes his appearance. 

"I’m sorry," he says. 

The door to his cell opens the moment he utters the words. It must be breakfast time already. How much time has passed? "Who are you talking to?" the guard in the door asks. Jeremiah turns to look at his brother. 

Nothing.

Jerome waits for him in his cell. He always does.


End file.
